


Call Girl

by L122ytorch



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, First Kiss, First Time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 15:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L122ytorch/pseuds/L122ytorch
Summary: House gets lonely and calls for some company, but his girl gets intercepted...by Cameron.





	Call Girl

It wasn't beyond Gregory House to "order" hookers. In fact, it was something he often mentioned. He'd often throw jokes in about being addicted to drugs, breaking the law, sleeping with working girls. Maybe he did it to elevate his badass status, or to see the grimace on Cuddy's face, or start a fight-versation with Wilson. Whatever his reasons, House thought he was above the law and he reveled in that fact.

His little house of cards almost came tumbling down when Detective Tritter tried nailing his ass to the wall. He'd gotten so far as to get him in court, but the judge was smart enough to see that Tritter had a personal vendetta. If House's job didn't involve saving lives, he would've been tossed in the tombs for good. If Cuddy hadn't perjured herself, he'd be facing serious charges. But as always, his friends stepped up where his moral ambiguity threatened to trip up his questionable lifestyle.

Very few people had taken advantage of House, he always seemed to beat them to the punch. 

Hookers were just another proclivity of his, a part of the Gregory House package. They were dispensable, they could be given orders, didn't ask too many questions and posed no real threat of emotional attachment. They were perfect. 

The stairs up to House's apartment were transversed by two beautiful women tonight. One was Dr. Allison Cameron, over-worked, weary, sleep deprived. And the other was a tall blonde wearing a skin-tight navy blue dress. They walked up the stairs in awkward silence. The elevator was in disrepair and luckily he only lived on the second floor. 

Cameron was surprised when her walking buddy kept at her side as she strode down the long hallway. Both came to a halt at 221B. Cameron shot her a look of confusion. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm uh...a friend."

"Really," Cameron replied incredulously. "Are you a..."

"Hooker?"

"Yeah."

"I am."

"Uh-huh," Cameron nodded slowly, letting this information sink in while she concocted a plan. House had been driving her absolutely fucking nuts lately. He was difficult to work with, their date was a total disaster, and she was tired of the fact that he never hesitated to take advantage of her and her colleagues. Plus, the week was rough and she'd had a few drinks after work. 

'Maybe,' she thought, 'I should stop approaching things like Allison Cameron, and start approaching things like Gregory House.' Instead of waiting for what she longed for, the idea of simply taking what she wanted, was growing more appealing by the second.

In this absence of communication while Allison was busy discarding her inhibitions, the blonde woman brought her hand to the doorknob but Cameron caught her wrist.

"Has he paid you yet?"

"No. Why?"

"How much would he owe."

"For what?"

"For everything."

"$1500," the blonde smiled.

"Do you take credit cards?"

"Are you kidding? Is this the 21st century?" the stranger pulled her phone out of her purse and attached a little card reader to the top. Cameron acquiesced, handing over a Visa. The card slid through effortlessly and she handed the phone to Cameron to sign with her finger. 

Putting the phone and reader back in her tiny purse, the gorgeous woman with glittering brown eyes told Cameron to "have fun" and turned to walk away.

"Wait...did he give you any instructions?" Cameron asked, catching her just before she disappeared down the stairs.

"He just said to come in quietly, get down to my panties and get in bed."

Cameron returned to House's door. The woman hadn't reach to knock, she was moving for the doorknob, it must be unlocked. Cameron wrapped an unsure hand around the knob and twisted. The door swung open to reveal House's familiar apartment. He wasn't sitting at the piano or lounging on the couch. She entered, setting down her purse and reaching for the buttons on her blouse. 

As she headed for the bedroom, she stripped off her clothes. In the dark expanse of his bedroom she folded her silky pink blouse and trousers and put them on a chest by his dresser, leaving her high heels on the floor. 

Her pulse sped up as her brain asked what exactly she thought she was doing. But fuck logic. She did everything she was "supposed to" and it rarely resulted in her getting what she wanted. And what she wanted...was House. House's attention, House's affection, and if she couldn't have those things, she'd take what she could get. 

Cameron heard little splashes of water and realized that he was in the bath. Suppressing her desire to flee she reached for the duvet cover, peeling open the bed and climbing inside, facing away from the bathroom, she let her blonde hair flow over the pillow. The room was dark, save for moonlight peeking through the blinds. It felt like her entire body was buzzing, her breathing was quick, pupils blown wide from lust and alcohol and attempting to see in the darkness. 

She heard him move, the water shift, heard the sound of the bath rushing down the drain and a towel being yanked off the wall rack. "Glad you could make it," his voice filled the small room. Her back was to him, nothing but black lace underwear and a quilt separating her from him. He was walking towards the bed, she could feel the familiar weight of his gaze on her form.

He pulled the blanket back, exposing the pale gorgeous body beneath. Her black lacy underwear stood in stark contrast to her soft, rosy flesh that stood out, even in the blackness of night. He ran a hand from her shoulder, down the dip before the rise of her hips, and continued down her leg. Involuntarily, she shuddered. 

"Responsive, I like that," he said, bringing his hand to cup her ass, which she appreciated, scooting back to get more pressure. He kneaded his fingers into the firm but fatty ass and hummed with appreciation before surprising her. He was moving her, beckoning the young woman onto her stomach, sideways on the bed, pulling her ass towards him. He spread her legs apart and rubbed his erection over her center, eliciting sweet little noises from her. 

He wanted to enjoy her, but he also wanted to get off, so he hooked fingers into her panties and pulled them off. She waited...unconsciously holding her breath, ass in the air, desperate for him to make a move, but unwilling to speak and break her anonymity. 

She heard him rustling through a drawer and opening a condom. Fuck, she wanted to watch him, she wanted to taste him, to run her fingers all over his body and revel in his weight, his scent, the look in his eyes. But she couldn't fuck it up now. 

He ran a thumb through her slick folds and she couldn't help but groan into the mattress. 

"God, you're so wet," he said approvingly. He had no idea. No idea how many times she'd fantasized about fucking him in his office, the conference room, the utility closet. He had no idea how much she enjoyed their back-and-forth, the way he looked at her, the way his pianist fingers wrapped around that little red and gray ball. He didn't know how much she envied his closeness with Wilson, his lust for Cuddy. She desperately wanted to take whatever impression he had of her and throw it away - start over.

He played with her soft flesh, toying with her, tracing his fingers over everything but where she wanted them the most. He was enjoying her dismay, her fists gathering the fabric of the bed, the way she tried to shift to get him to brush over her clit or her entrance. Finally she huffed in annoyance and in response he slipped a finger in and started playing with her clit. Her back muscles moved, her body shifted in approval. 

He remained standing at the edge of the bed, using his fingers to drive her mad and it was a struggle not to kneel and taste her...but she was a working girl and as a doctor, well, he knew better than to expose himself like that. Still, there was something about her. Her perfume tugged at his memory but Vicodin kept pushing it away. She was perfect, her mews and moans and movements were enough to break him apart, she was gorgeous. 

Tortured for long enough, he finally pushed his erection into her and she moaned. He undid the hooks on her bra, slipping the straps off her shoulders and pulling it out from under her, he ran his fingers over her back before grasping at his prize. Fuck, she was so intoxicating. She fit against him so perfectly. He started fucking her in earnest, knowing that his leg would throw a fit later. 

But this was the best way, he didn't have to kiss her, didn't have to watch her face, and most importantly, wouldn't see a grimace or a flash of pity as she saw his mangled leg. This was the best way. Right? But god did he want to taste her, every inch of her. 

He was getting close and she could tell from his breathy expletives and jagged movements. 

"House..." the word slipped past her lips before she could stop it from tumbling off her tongue. 

She immediately felt him pull away. Heard a crash, he stumbled, switching on a nightstand light in a fury of flurried panic. She turned and sat up. Warm yellow rays infiltrated the once pitch black space. 

House stood, lips parted in shock, blue eyes piercing through Allison's vulnerability. Cameron...Allison Cameron...was on his bed, naked, moaning just moments ago as he plunged into her. She was sitting up, blonde hair falling over her shoulders, disheveled, green eyes dark with lust but shimmering with panic. Her legs weren't crossed, they were slightly parted, with a small patch of damp blonde curls disappearing into swollen pink lips. The cold air was a shock and her pink nipples stood at attention. He knew working with her that she was gorgeous, but fuck...she surpassed his best fantasies. 

Silence passed between them.

She was terrified that he'd take off. Or scream at her. Or fire her. If House was one thing, it was unpredictable. But she'd turned the tables on him. She did something that he'd never expect, caught him off guard, took what she wanted. He had created a monster.


End file.
